


Last Night

by Tuxedo_Elf



Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Tim Drake is Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2393381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuxedo_Elf/pseuds/Tuxedo_Elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightwing falls - will he get up again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Go easy on me, I haven't written anything in 5 years or more and this is my first fic for this fandom. :) Elves to Superheros is a bit of a jump!

Last Night

He'd never really given much thought to his own mortality. He spent so much of his time trying to keep others from losing their lives, his own got pushed to the sidelines. Over and over again he put himself in harms way to keep another safe. He supposed it had been inevitable that his disregard of his own safety would one day be the end of him. 

But he hadn't realised how much it would hurt. 

Physical pain first, the steel beam crushing his chest, making each breath agony. The concrete of the collapsed ceiling trapping his arms and legs, making it impossible to move at all. Not that he wanted to, the searing pain told of many broken, even shattered bones. He was fairly sure he had broken ribs too, probably a punctured lung – or two. Not to mention the gash to the back of his head which he could feel bleeding profusely. 

“Damn,” he whispered to himself. There was no getting out of this one, not unless someone found him and he knew he was almost out of time. It had been worth it though... the homeless kids who had been sheltering here were safe. Though he regretted that he hadn't caught the monster who had thought it a good idea to try and 'reduce' the city's homeless by getting rid of the most vulnerable. The thought caused him to growl, despite the pain the sound cost him. Maybe Batman would pick up on what had happened, would finish what he could not. He only hoped his death wouldn't destroy the man too much.

Because he was dying, he was in no doubts about that. There was darkness in the corners of his vision, despite it being close to dawn. He was getting cold too, so very cold. He found himself wishing he'd prepared for this, left letters... it was stupid, but he hadn't even written a will. 

With those thoughts came the emotional pain that seemed to cut deeper than the injuries to his body. His thoughts drifted to those he was leaving, each one of them part of the family that had grown around him over the years. If only he had a little more time, time to tell Bruce he was sorry, to hug Tim, to kiss Barbara. He blinked back tears that threatened to spill from beneath the tattered mask. Damn it all, but he was afraid. 

He struggled to breathe as the darkness crept across his vision, fighting for every heartbeat now. It was too much. His eyes fluttered shut and did not open again. 

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The news had come over the police scanner a few minutes ago. The kids had, surprisingly, called the police after escaping from the building. At first he hadn't worried, but after failing to raise Nightwing, Batman had become concerned. Too far on the other side of the city, he had sent Robin to investigate. 

Robin's cape fluttered behind him as he raced through the city on his bike. He could see the dust rising from the destroyed building before he saw the devastation itself. Rounding the corner, he stopped sharply. He gasped, it was almost unrecognisable as anything other than a pile of rubble. 

“Nightwing?” He called out as he ran towards it, looking for any sign of his friend. Approaching the building with caution, he tried to see inside the building. “Nightwing! Are you here?” When there was no response he stepped into the rubble, attempting to enter what was left of the structure, stepping carefully as the ground moved beneath his feet. “Nightwing?” The lack of response unsettled him. Maybe he wasn't here, maybe the kids just hadn't seen him leave... he was stealthy, his communicator might have been damaged... he tried to convince himself. 

Then he saw it. The mess of black hair and a flash of far too pale skin. “Nightwing!” He moved over as fast as he dared, finally reaching Nightwing, trapped under steel and rubble. “Oh hell..” he hissed, seeing how trapped Nightwing was. Reaching out, Robin pressed his fingers to Nightwing's neck, seeking his pulse.

There wasn't one. 

“No!” Fear coursed through him and lent him strength he would not have believed himself capable of. Gritting his teeth he pulled the steel beam off the prone form, letting out a low cry when he saw the battered body beneath it. As he worked at freeing Nightwing from the rubble he heard sirens and the sound of people running. “In here!” He cried out. “Quick, help me!” He would later berate himself for endangering the officers, but at the time, he was focused completely on Nightwing. 

Four officers came in, immediately setting to work. They didn't yet know what Robin did, that Nightwing was not breathing. 

Strong hands helped Robin carry the fallen hero out of the destroyed building and lay him down outside. 

In the cool dawn light, the extent of his injuries became painfully obvious. Robin dropped to his knees and once again tried to find any sign of life. “No, no, no...” even as he felt for a heartbeat, he could feel bones moving beneath his fingers, which came away bloody.

“Robin?” Commissioner Gordon stepped up behind him, his expression grim as he looked at Nightwing. 

Robin ignored him, fighting down the rising panic. Still, his hands shook as he tipped Nightwing's head back and began CPR.

His stomach turned as he felt the broken ribs giving way even more as he pressed down, desperately trying to restart Nightwing's heart. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be... he had to get him back. What would they do without him? It was inconceivable.

Over and over he tried, pressing, breathing, listening and looking for the slightest hint that it was working. Yet, despite his best efforts nothing happened and then, at last, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

“Robin...” Gordon's voice was soft, sad. “Stop now. He's gone.” 

END (PART ONE OF TWO)


	2. Chapter Two

Last Night – Part 2

It didn't hurt any more. The pain had gone and he moved freely, walking in confusion down the long passage. “Where am I?” He wondered out loud. He couldn't seem to make sense of his surroundings. Reaching up to rub his eyes, he was startled to find his mask missing, though the rest of his costume seemed intact. “What the hell?”

“Not hell, Dick, you've done a little better than that.” The voice – which sounded mildly amused – seemed to come from everywhere. Yet it was not that which stopped him in his tracks. He knew that voice, it was long gone from the world, but he still heard it in his dreams. “Mother? No... it can't be. What kind of cruel trick is this?”

“No trick, son. The time for all those things is over now.” His father. That was his father's voice.

Nightwing blinked, shook his head. “This can't be real...”Everything was foggy and vague and nothing made sense. Yet he was compelled to follow the voices, despite the cloudiness that seemed to fill the space he was in.

All of a sudden the fog lifted, clearing a space in the middle of the strange expanse which suddenly appeared as an empty circus tent. Empty, that was, except for the two figures in the centre. “Oh...” His voice cracked. It had been so long. Long honed instinct told him it was indeed no trick – it was real. Without hesitation he ran, crossing the tent in moments, to be welcomed into his parents arms at last. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“He's gone, Robin. I am so sorry. There is nothing more you can do.” While, deep down, Jim Gordon knew the risks these heroes ran, it was almost impossible to accept that one of them was actually dead. He knew they were human, yet they'd always seemed beyond mortality. He also knew, though he wasn't supposed to, that Nightwing had been Robin first, had been there almost since the beginning. What was his loss going to do to the others? “It isn't right,” he muttered.

Robin stared at Nightwing, silent and in shock. Gone. That was ridiculous, how could he be gone? He was Nightwing, the first Robin, the one they all expected to become Batman one day. In truth, Robin had expected to lose Batman before Nightwing, though he would never admit it. Nightwing was only a few years older that him – still a young man, in his prime. “Was,” he thought miserably. What was he going to tell Batman? Or Barbara, or Alfred... In his ten years as a hero, he'd touched an impossible number of lives. “This can't be happening...”

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“I've missed you so much...” Dick held tightly to his parents. “But I still don't understand how you can be here... not unless... oh.” he stopped suddenly as he remembered what had happened before this, the memories suddenly crystal clear. “I'm dead...”

His father nodded. “It seems this family does not have much luck with living until a ripe old age.” He smiled slightly, but looked sad as well. “I had wished a long life for you.” 

“It's... ok, I guess. It was short but it was good.” Dick smiled. “In nineteen years I had two families, both of which gave me everything.” Still, he felt sad when he thought of those he had left behind. He had always loved deeply and being without them would not be easy. 

“You are a hero,” his mother said softly. “We are so proud of you, you never once gave up. I hope you know we were always with you, even when you felt alone.”

He nodded. “It took a while... but yes, I knew. And I couldn't give up when there were people in need. Strange to think that it is all over now. No more battles, no more wars.” Just... whatever came next. Whatever that was. 

Embracing him tightly, his mother nodded. “No more. You've earned your rest.”

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“Come on son, the ambulance is nearly here...” Gordon tried to pull the boy away from his friend. “Come with me...” Batman was sure to be here soon as well, and he had to look after this one, even if they had been too late to help Nightwing. 

“No...” Robin shrugged him off.

“There is nothing more you can do... don't torture yourself...” he pleaded with the boy. How old was this one? Mid teens, if that. Too young to see this. Gordon had no idea what pushed someone into this life, especially at such a young age, but no mattter what life you led, the loss of a friend was always going to hit hard. 

“No I... I.. have to...” Robin closed his eyes, trying to think. “Once more. I have to try once more.” 

Gordon sighed. He didn't blame Robin for not wanting to give up, but there was no point. Still, there seemed even less point in trying to stop him. “Very well.” By the time he was done help would have arrived. 

Relieved that the commissioner wouldn't try to stop him, Robin took a long, deep breath before positioning himself by Nightwing's head and trying to coax him back one last time. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nightwing had no idea how much time had passed, or even if it mattered any more. Everything here seemed to shift and change, even the colours in the tent. Was that what death was? A strange expanse with those who mattered most, but where the rest had no substance? He shivered. “I'll get used to it...”

“You will... there is more to this than you can imagine.” 

He opened his mouth to answer her, but at that moment a searing pain exploded in his chest and he cried out. At the back of his mind he was aware that being dead shouldn't hurt. “What?” he gasped, then bit back another cry as he felt it again, almost doubling over in agony. 

Something almost imperceptible shifted in his father's eyes. “They are trying to bring you back to them.” 

“Who?” he asked immediately, looking up. Batman probably, he reasoned and his heart ached for an entirely different reason.

“The boy, the one who you shared your name with.”

Robin. Tim. “Oh gods...” Dick winced. Tim shouldn't be dealing with this. He'd been through enough already. “I'm sorry, kiddo...” Just like Tim not to give up even when it was hopeless. “Is that why it hurts?” he asked.

“Yes and no... you have not quite left that world yet...” there was a reluctance in the words, an unwanted truth.

The battle wasn't over. 

“So... I could still... go back?” Dick asked slowly. 

His mother's voice was soft, full of fear. “You could... but Dick... don't. You would suffer so much, your body was so broken. Stay here, son. Stay with us.” 

“It is not a decision to be made lightly. Your body is clinging to that world by a thread, there can be no second chances. Whatever you decide, you will have to endure.” The words caused Dick to shiver. They came from his father, but the formality, the tone – those came from somewhere else. Someone else. 

There was silence as he thought. The injuries were severe, he knew that. But he'd come back from a lot already, he could do this, couldn't he? He had never shied away from doing what was right, no matter the personal cost. It scared him to think of never fully recovering, of being unable to reclaim his old life – but if he stayed here he certainly wouldn't have a chance. What good was he here? 

“Dick, please...” his mother pleaded, taking his hands in hers. 

He looked away. “I can't.” 

It was simply impossible. If there was still a chance of helping people, of sparing them any suffering, then he knew he had to take it. No matter what. That was just who he was. “I'm sorry.”

“So am I, Dick...” she hugged him tightly. “Though I'm not surprised. You were always thinking of others first. Such a good boy.” 

“I had good role models...” he replied, returning the hug. “I'll miss you though. I always do.”

His father put his arms around them both. “We miss you too, but we understand. We are so proud of you, Dick. You are a true hero. There will be time enough for us to be together.” It was his father's voice again, much to Dick's relief. “Now, get back there before even I end up begging you to stay.”

Dick nodded, his heart breaking at leaving them. “How?” He whispered, ignoring the niggling fear. 

“Just close your eyes, son...”

“OK...” He didn't right away. First he hugged them one last time, feeling the tears that fell. “I love you both.. goodbye...” simple words, but ones that he'd longed to tell them. 

Nightwing closed his eyes.

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“Come on...” Robin pressed down. “Come ON...” He pressed again. “COME ON!” 

Nightwing gave a gasp, followed almost immediately by a cry of agony as awareness of his body returned in a rush. 

“Oh! Oh god... Nightwing!” Robin's jaw hung open in amazement. He'd actually done it. He'd brought Nightwing back. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you...” He cried, not caring who heard, or who saw his tears of relief. 

Behind him, Gordon watched in disbelief. Maybe he was wrong. Were they really just humans? It seemed as though they could survive anything. “Don't... don't move him... wait for the ambulance...” he could already hear it racing towards them. 

Robin nodded, but took Nightwing's hand in his. “Thank you...” he whispered. 

Everything hurt, especially his chest. It seemed like his whole body was on fire and it was still hard to breathe. He couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to. Unusually, he found himself longing for some very strong painkillers. Yet, as he looked up at the tear-stained face of Robin, he forced a smile and managed to curl two fingers round the younger man's hand. He'd made the right decision.

Definitely. 

THE END


End file.
